


Reckless Behavior

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book kink, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Originally written in July 2007, Romance, non-canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 08:51:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4429073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s all his fault that the calm life she’s developed is no longer peaceful and that her sanctuary has become a den of immoral thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reckless Behavior

**Author's Note:**

> _Originally Posted: Jul 7, 2007_

Is it odd to find books arousing?  
  
Despite all her research efforts, Hermione hasn’t found any definite proof one way or another. The arousal by books condition isn’t common by any means, but she has found evidence that others share that particular fetish. What percentage of people must share such an interest for it to not be considered shameful or perverse? Considering that there are people who find animals stimulating or like to dress in furry costumes, she has to think that being aroused by libraries is rather boring in comparison.  
  
Still, she hasn’t ever shared her darkest secret with anyone. She doesn’t talk about sex with others, of course, but this is something that she’d keep to herself regardless. People find her love of books strange enough without being aware of the fact that her nipples get tight and her knickers get wet whenever she’s surrounded by shelves of books. The scent of ink, the texture of the parchment, the feel of leather covers, and even the bumpy indentions of titles on the spines arouse her.  
  
Over the years, she’s become very good at concealing her arousal. She doesn’t let it consume her nor does she indulge in enjoying it very often unless she‘s alone. With school and then the war and now work requiring her to spend so much time around books, it was merely self-preservation to develop a tolerance so she could hide how it affected her.  
  
Harry might have guessed once, as she noticed him staring at her one day during their research at Grimmauld Place after she’d been considering the possibility of being shagged on the desk surrounded by the books. Her cheeks had been flushed, and she’d avoided looking at the man who had happened to star in that particular fantasy when she’d seen Harry giving her a curious look. He has never said anything, thankfully, but she felt awkward for days after.  
  
After nearly being caught, she became more careful. It isn’t that she necessarily finds it embarrassing---okay, perhaps she does. Sexuality is still confusing to her, regardless of the fact that she’s twenty-four and hasn’t been a virgin since a rather sloppy first time with Ron years ago. They tried a few more times, and it did get better, but they were young and there was a war, so it wasn’t like they had much opportunity to take the time to actually figure out their erogenous zones or discuss anything the way she’d wanted. When she’d tried, Ron had turned bright red and told her not to be so vulgar. Her vulgar? Considering his language, she found the idea laughable and, looking back, she thinks that was probably the beginning of their end.  
  
If her curiosity and interest in learning is vulgar, then it’s best that Ron was given his freedom to find someone less interested in discussing such things. Of course, the whole situation left her feeling insecure and awkward, so she hasn’t tried again since. She reads books, though, trying to figure out how perverse she is to find parchment and ink arousing, and she experiments with herself, trying to learn her body and what she likes in case she ever does take another lover. If she doesn’t know herself, how can she expect a man to figure her out?  
  
None of her experiments or research has helped at all during the last three months, though. If anything, they’ve just made things worse. Her imagination is far too active, the books aren’t helpful at all, and her nights are restless-full of the wickedest things she’s ever dared to dream. And it’s all _his_ fault that the calm life she’s developed is no longer peaceful and that her sanctuary has become a den of immoral thoughts.  
  
Bill Weasley.  
  
Oldest brother of her first, and only, boyfriend. Divorced, intelligent, handsome, and far too smirky for her own good. One of Gringotts most well-known and best cursebreakers in the field. And, as of three months ago, her reluctant assistant while he recovers from injuries sustained on a recent assignment in Kathmandu. His presence in her library, as it’s clearly become _hers_ since Gringotts hired her right after the war to help organize the research department, has disrupted everything.  
  
It wouldn’t be so awful if he weren’t just so masculine and attractive. She’d be able to deal with the impure thoughts if it were simply the influence of the library and a pretty face, but he can’t just be good-looking. No, he also has to be clever, witty, confident, and just a bit full of himself in that way she hates to admit she finds sexy. He’s also more _man_ than she’s been around in years, since she began to hide amongst the books and let life continue to move on without her.  
  
The worst part has to be the fact that he seems to see her as a surrogate little sister. He teases her constantly, deliberately trying to make her blush or aggravate her, and he has apparently made it his mission to make her as annoyed with him being there while he recovers as he is at being removed from the field and forced into desk work. He makes fun of her hair, saying it looks like it’s trying to escape from the pins she uses to put it up, and her clothes, asking if she has anything but neutral colors in her wardrobe, but always in a subtle way that makes it frustratingly impossible to argue with him without seeming overly annoyed for such a simple comment.  
  
For what it’s worth, her hair does often look as if it’s rebelling against being tamed into a somewhat formal style for work, which is why she wears a braid most of the time instead of pinning it up. However, the colors of her robes are a ridiculous point of contention. She _does_ have color in her wardrobe, but the robes she wears to work are professional and she keeps the colors simple, black, gray, and browns.  
  
She’s tempted sometimes to open her robe and flash him, since it very well might shock him into silence if he saw that she often just wears sexy knickers beneath the rather prim work robes. She rather likes the idea that she seems so fussy and prudish yet has a slightly reckless side that few get to see. She never gives in to that idea, of course, because it would be inappropriate and, knowing Bill, he’d just insult the style of her knickers or tell her to put her clothes back on.  
  
“You finished?”  
  
Hermione blinks at the book she has open in front of her and glances up at the question. Bill’s leaning against the bookshelf staring at her, smirking slightly. He’s wearing blue jeans that fit far too well and a T-shirt that declares ‘Cursebreakers do it better’, a gift from Fred and George at Christmas a few years ago, she distantly recalls. When he clears his throat and looks amused, she frowns and curses her pale skin for showing her blush so easily.  
  
“Finished with what?” she asks.  
  
“Daydreaming,” he drawls as the left side of his mouth curves up in a slight smile. “I’ve been talking to you for a few minutes, but you were obviously off in your own little world. Not very professional, you know.”  
  
“Considering your current attire, which I’d like to point out is a violation of the dress policy for this department, I’d say that you speaking to me about professionalism is somewhat hypocritical. Besides, you didn’t say a word because I’d have heard you. I was simply reviewing the research for Myers’ assignment next week,” she says matter-of-factly, deciding that it’s not exactly a lie since she did, indeed, have the book open for that reason.  
  
“This department is uptight and rigid,” he says. “Besides, I do have my boring black robe, Miss Rule Book, so I’m not breaking any policies. You, however, have failed to turn a single page of that book for the last twenty minutes, so it’s either a very difficult passage or you’re daydreaming.”  
  
"I was giving the information my full attention," she tells him primly. Why did he have to walk so quietly? Normally, she can hear footsteps in her library and knows where everyone is at most times. Bill is infuriating with his ability to skulk about without notice.  
  
"Were you? It must be a very interesting book, then, since you ignored the fact that someone entered your precious library after hours and needed your assistance. Shall we see what has you so spellbound?" He reaches for the book before she has a chance to realize his intent. She watches him look at the page, his long fingers curled around the burgundy cover and stroking it so softly that she shifts in her chair and unconsciously rubs her thighs together. "Bollocks. This is rudimentary spell casting, at best, and there's no way that you don't already have this memorized. Which means you, my dear, just lied to me on top of spending your evening daydreaming. What do you have to say about that?"  
  
"I'd say that it's obvious you're suffering the effects of some long forgotten curse that are only just now manifesting themselves, thus making you delusional. While I might know the information, it certainly doesn't mean that I don't take my time and attention with anything important that I must study."  
  
"Perhaps it's this bloody library of yours that's making me imagine things," he muses as he sits on the corner of the table. His weight shakes it, and she gasps when one of her books falls off the edge. Before it can land, it levitates back into place. She glances at Bill and finds him staring at her as he lowers his wand.  
  
"My library is doing no such thing. Sadly, you'll have to find another excuse for your ridiculous imagination. Now that you've already interrupted me, after hours I'll point out since you seem so fond of mentioning it, what can I do for you?"  
  
"Hmm...maybe it's you, then, instead of the library. You do realize that your department is the only one required to actually follow separate rules from the standard ones we all usually ignore, don't you? Too much restriction can make a bloke see things." He smiles a lazy smile that ought to make her want to hex him instead of causing flutters in her belly that are all too familiar. "As for what you can do for me, Granger, I think the ideas might blow that prissy little mind of yours. For now, how about giving me a copy of 'Spellcasters Guide to Sex Magic'."  
  
She blinks at him and feels her cheeks heat up even as she scowls. "Rules have helped make this department efficient and productive, Weasley. They've also meant that we no longer have books lost, lack data needed by you lot, or have slow turnaround time for research requests. And do not lower yourself enough to quip that some rules are meant to be broken. I'm fully aware of that, but they'll certainly not be in _my_ library," she says firmly as she stands up and leans closer to him. "Please do save the obvious attempts to rankle me with suggestive comments. I've been best friends with boys since I was twelve, you might remember, so it takes quite a bit to actually shock me. Now, why do you need a book on that topic? It's extremely restricted, and I'll not grant access without an explanation."  
  
"You know, I can finally see why Ron spent so many years deliberately riling you up," Bill says as he leans close enough that she can feel his breath on her face. "I need a book on that topic because I'm interested in learning new things. I'm also single, unattached, and it's got mighty descriptive passages and illustrations."  
  
"You---" She falters, pretty sure she understands him correctly and utterly shocked at his blunt honesty. She hisses, "You can't use a restricted text for _that_."  
  
"For what?" He reaches over and tugs on a loose curl. "Looks like your hair is planning another revolt. You need to stop torturing it with those awful pins."  
  
"My hair, as always, is none of your concern," she tells him tightly, swatting his hand away. "And you know perfectly well for what."  
  
"I thought you'd been best friends with boys since you were twelve and nothing would shock you. Haven't you read the book before? I'm sure you have; probably read all the ones in here."  
  
"Harry and Ron are unlikely to want to use a reference text for _wanking_. That's just---You need to leave, I think, before I decide to file a complaint regarding your utter cheekiness and improper use of my books."  
  
She picks up a small stack of books from her desk and turns to stalk into the aisles so she can put them away. At least, that's what she tells herself as she runs to hide amongst the books and try to rid of her mind of the image of Bill Weasley wanking while holding one. The Spellcasters Guide is a lurid text, with moving illustrations and vulgar descriptions that excite her even as she tells herself she shouldn't be reading. She puts the books away quickly and efficiently before she leans forward against the shelf and sighs. Why did he have to be so good at getting under her skin?  
  
"If you file a report, I'm afraid that I'd have to file one of my own. I'd merely get reprimanded for any complaint, but you very well might lose your precious department if the goblins had any idea at all how you react to these books." The voice is low and right by her ear. She straightens and starts to turn but Bill is there pressing her against the shelf.  
  
"You should leave. I have no idea what you're talking about, but it's late and I'm tired of silly quips," she says, biting her lip as she stares at the colored spines before her. The scent of books is usually comforting and arousing, but Bill's scent is even stronger, surrounding her now as it blends perfectly with the ink and parchment and makes her think about sex.  
  
"Oh, you know perfectly well what I'm talking about. Why else was your hand on your thigh as you read that ridiculous book earlier? I saw it when I arrived, just like I've seen quite a few things since my transfer here," he murmurs, moving his hands down her arms and raising them until her hands are on the shelf in front of her. "Touch them, Hermione. You know you want to. Look at the colors and textures. That's what appeals to you, isn't it? I didn't understand, at first, just thought it was fucking hot once I got over the shock of seeing you with your robes around your waist and your hand in your knickers while you touched the books. Now I know, though. Always have been a fast study."  
  
"When?" she asks in a strangled voice as a pounding in her ears becomes so loud she thinks she might faint. He knew. He knew her secret, had obviously caught her and, oh god, he'd _watched_ her.  
  
"Weeks ago," he practically purrs against her ear. "After you scolded me for dropping the copy of Indian Charms, I came back after work to apologize and I saw you. Fucking hell, it was amazing. So bloody prim and uptight, but you were wearing this pair of skimpy red knickers and had stockings on and your hair was loose. Fucking love when your hair is loose."  
  
"That was right after you transferred," she squeaks, curling her fingers around the shelf in front of her as he talks about her knickers and her hair. She whines when she feels his lips on her neck before he pulls the pins from her hair and runs his fingers through it. What is she doing? This is---unbelievably erotic. No, it's wrong. Right. It's wrong and needs stoppped but, god, it's exciting.  
  
"Oh yeah, it was," he agrees, pressing close enough that she can feel his erection against the small of her back. "Touch them, Hermione. You know you want to, so just give in and do it. Be reckless with me."  
  
"I can't. It's embarrassing and wrong. Besides, we can't do this. It's just an awkward situation, so we're best off to forget about it and just go on about our business."  
  
He tightens his grip in her hair and turns her head so she's forced to look at him. "There is _nothing_ wrong with you. If there is, then there's obviously something wrong with me for wanking while I watched you and for trying to understand and finally getting it." He smiles then, a rather sheepish smile as he ducks his head and looks up at her through long ginger lashes. "Been trying to get your attention for weeks, but you just sneer and turn up that pretty little nose and treat me like I'm bloody Ron. Got tired of waiting. Besides, I'm more of a man of action once I have a plan."  
  
She listens closely, as he says quite a lot even without words, but she keeps coming back to one thing. "You understand?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
That one word does it. She has no idea if he's being honest about, well, planning to seduce her because, really, the idea is mind-boggling considering who he is, nor does she know if this is just an experiment, a one time thing to prove to himself that he can get into her knickers. At this moment, though, she doesn't care. She will after, most likely, when she feels ashamed and guilty for giving in to her desires, but that's not important right now. She stares at him, looking at the earnest look on his face and the blue of his eyes and the rough texture of the scar covering his cheek, and she knows it's time to be reckless. Just this once.  
  
She reaches up to touch his face, carefully stroking the scarred skin as if it were a page in one of her books. "You won't tell anyone." It's not a question because she knows it's true. He does understand, which makes her heart race and her body warm. "You shouldn't have spied on me. That was an invasion of privacy, and I should hex you and send you on your way."  
  
"It's a public place, at work, no less, and I think you'd have got off on knowing you were being watched by a bloke so aroused by the sight of you that he had to wank even when he was conflicted by thoughts of you being the uptight ex of his baby brother."  
  
Bill moves into her touch, dragging his teeth across his bottom lip as he rubs his cheek against her hand. "Ron never understood," she says simply.  
  
"He wouldn't, but I'd rather not talk about him when I'm standing here harder than I've been in years and want nothing more than to rip off that robe to see what daring knickers you're wearing underneath."  
  
"There'll be no ripping my robe, Weasley. Charms or not, it's impossible to repair clothes to fit properly after they've been ripped." She drops her hand and reaches for the shelf, lightly caressing the spines of the books. "And who says I'm wearing anything at all."  
  
"Oh, you're wearing something. Being naked is too common for you. You like the thrill of knowing you're dressed like a wicked tart beneath this ugly black robe," he says confidently. "I can see it in that little smirk you get anytime I mention how horrid these things are or when you're dealing with those prats who can't see behind the books and prissiness. Shall we see what you're wearing today?"  
  
"Calling me a tart isn't a very good way to secure access beneath my robe," she says dryly even as her fingers curl around a large volume."You're right, however reluctant I am to acknowledge that fact. Wearing nothing at all beneath work robes is crass and unseemly. I suppose it would require further research on your part to determine what I am, actually, wearing beneath it today."  
  
"Now, see, if you just made all research this hands-on, I'd definitely be more agreeable to my transfer." He presses in behind her and deftly unbuttons her robe without even having to look.  
  
"Fortunately, we don't receive assignments that involve curses being placed on my girly bits." She traces the words on the book spines, feeling the breaks in smooth leather and the rough changes in texture while he licks her neck. When he parts her robe, she pulls a book from the shelf and opens it, inhaling the scent as he moves his hands over the black lace demibra that barely covers her breasts. The matching knickers are just a scrap of silk and lace that ride so low her pubic hair is mostly bare. She blushes when he touches her, knowing he's the first man in far too long to see her this way, but tells herself that he's obviously already seen it during his spying on her. God, she should be so upset with him for that, will be when the desire fades, but, right now, she just finds it incredibly arousing.  
  
"I love this set. It's not my favorite, that's the red silk I saw that first time, but these are a close second. These knickers that barely even qualify for the name," he murmurs, cupping her with his large hand as he rubs the crotch with his finger, "and this bra that is obviously a cup size too small." He moves his other hand to her breast, squeezing before he tugs on her nipple through the lace.  
  
"I don't think they'd fit you, but perhaps we could find a set in your size," she manages to say, moaning softly as she touches parchment while he rubs lace against her nipple.  
  
"Is that one of the things that made Ron run away scared? Heard you were too kinky for him, wanted to try all these things that horrified the poor ickle baby, but he didn't mention having to wear your knickers. Course, I got him right pissed before asking so he'd not be too suspicious, so maybe he forgot. I can be kinky, Hermione. Want me to show you?"  
  
"You! Oh god," she whines when he presses the heel of his hand against her clit, unable to even properly scold him for asking Ron about her sexually, an idea that makes her press back and rub her bum against his erection in a way that makes her realize she's utterly depraved.  
  
"Is that a yes?" he asks, not even giving her time to think much less answer. He murmurs something against her neck and she feels magic wind around her ankles and wrists. She gasps when she's suddenly pulled against the bookshelf, facing him with her robes open and her chest heaving. He smiles wickedly as he strips off his shirt and looks at her in a way that makes her wiggle and pull against the magic binding her. "You like this, don't you? Having someone else take control and being surrounded by all your books?"  
  
"No," she denies even as her nipples tighten even more and her knickers become damp.  
  
"Liar," he accuses before he kisses her. It's unlike any kiss she's ever had before. Rough and desperate, like he has to kiss her or he'll not be able to stand it. She parts her lips and returns the kiss, arching off the shelf as she pulls at the magic keeping her firmly in place. He grinds against her before he pulls back, breathing hard and looking as dazed as she felt. "Bloody hell."  
  
"I don't like being confined," she tells him primly, rather pleased that she can manage such a tone when her bra is shoved above her breasts and she's moaning like, well, someone she's not.  
  
"It's a simple charm you could easily break if you wanted. I'd not use anything that forced you," he says smugly. "Now, where was I? Oh, right. I was about to make you scream for me."  
  
"We'll see. It takes a lot to make me scream, Weasley."  
  
"I think I'm up to the task."  
  
"Was that an attempt at crude humor or merely cocky arrogance rearing its ugly head?"  
  
"There's nothing ugly about my cocky head, Granger."  
  
"Ah, then crude humor it is."  
  
"You're supposed to be so overwhelmed with passion that you _stop_ challenging me, you know? Hence the magical binding and near nakedness."  
  
"Oh, sorry. You really should send a memo next time, just so I'm aware of my responsibilities as the seducee."  
  
"I'll be sure to write one next time I attempt a seduction, in triplicate so your stupid rules are followed."  
  
"Are you planning to excite me with talk about rules or do you intend to actually move at some point? This position isn't particularly comfortable, especially when these knickers are riding up my bum."  
  
"Guess I should just remove them then, merely for your comfort."  
  
"Ow! Bloody hell, Bill! There's a charm for that that doesn't require elastic being ripped and stinging skin."  
  
"Yes, but the charm doesn't make your tits bounce as you move and it doesn't leave that lovely red mark on your bare skin. It also doesn't make you moan and arch forward offering that sweet cunt to me like you just did."  
  
"It hurt," she mutters, blushing as he stares between her legs like he's never seen one before. "I assure you that mine is normal and in perfect working order."  
  
"Huh?" Bill looks up and blinks at her before his cheeks become faintly red. "Brat. I'll tell you if it's in perfect working order soon enough." He swats her hip as if scolding her for catching him looking like a teenager who's never seen a girl's bits before and reaches behind her. He presses against her, rubbing deliberately as he makes a show of browsing the shelf. "What should we choose? Perhaps Herbology. That's not often needed in our line of work, and it is about growing and nurturing things."  
  
"You are not looking for a book to read while you've got me like this," she says, flinching as she hears how hesitant her tone is. If this is just a joke, she'll curse him so badly that he can never get another erection his entire life.  
  
“While I do like to read, far more than you seem capable of believing, this is certainly not the right time,” he agrees as he straightens up. He’s holding a thick book with a smooth brown leather cover. She inhales sharply when he moves the book across her belly. “That feel good?”  
  
“Bill, what---”  
  
He grins and banishes her bra before lowering his head and sucking her nipple. While sucking, he moves the book up her ribs. The leather feels amazing, and she whines softly as she curls her fingers into her hand. “Yeah, you like that, baby. Knew you would,” he murmurs before his tongue curls around her nipple. He raises his head and smiles as he opens the book. “Hmm. The parchment is a bit worn from age and the ink is fading, but it feels quite nice. See?”  
  
She looks at it and nods dumbly, leaning back against the shelf and feeling the variety of books press against parts of her skin. He runs his thumb over the pages so they flutter against her nipple, which causes her to make a sound she’s never made before. It becomes worse when he cups her breast with the book, rubbing the pages over both sides of it while he scrapes his teeth along her neck.  
  
“Have you never done this before? I’ve seen you touch the books, feel them with your hands as you stroke this pretty little cunt, but you’ve never once given into the impulse to feel them on your tits? On your belly?” he asks, watching her face for the answer. He groans and presses closer, rubbing his erection against her thigh. “God, you’re so fucking hot. ‘bout to get hotter.”  
  
Instead of asking what he means, she watches him focus his wand on the now closed book and murmur something she can’t hear. Her eyes widen as she watches it slowly shrink and take on another shape entirely. “Oh god.”  
  
“Never had to transfigure one of these before, but it’s a damn good job, if I do say so myself,” he says with a smirk before he brings the curved end up to her lips. “Lick it, love. It’s soon going to be inside you, so you’ll want to make sure it’s nice and wet.”  
  
“This---you---Bill,” she stammers, unable to believe he’s had the audacity to transfigure the book into a dildo. He moves his leg between hers and presses against her hard, which makes her gasp. The dildo is suddenly in her mouth, and she tastes leather as her tongue instinctively curls around it. She turns her head, trying to get it out of her mouth.  
  
“Is something wrong?” he asks worriedly.  
  
“It’s leather!” That should surely be enough explanation. “Old leather, at that. Not exactly arousing, Bill.”  
  
“Right. Okay,” he says, making a face. “Sorry, wasn’t thinking. Did I ruin the mood?”  
  
“Damaged it slightly but not ruined. The, uh, your transfiguration is very creative, and there’s somewhere else that you could use it without worrying about the taste.” She blushes even as she meets his eyes and tugs on her bindings.  
  
“Well, yes, obviously! That was my intent all along and you really think it’s creative?”  
  
“My arms are starting to hurt. Shall we discuss your transfiguration techniques at a later, more appropriate, date?” she asks. “You know, this seduction of yours isn’t going so well.”  
  
“You’re just being difficult to seduce,” he informs her. He smiles before he kisses her, effectively removing the lingering taste of old leather as he strokes her tongue with his. When he pulls back, he moves his hand over her breast and squeezes. “Fortunately, I always love a challenge. Now, where were we?”  
  
“You were making me gag on old leather while my arms ache.”  
  
“It hasn’t been that long, Granger, so stop whining. Your arms are fine, and they’re not even that high anyway.” He lowers them, though, until they’re spread out on her sides, which does help her back and shoulders.  
  
She’s never been seduced before, but she has to think that this is definitely not the norm. There’s no candles or romantic music and he’s definitely not smooth and perfect. Oddly enough, she prefers the flaws and realness. “I don’t whine, but thank you for lowering them.”  
  
“Welcome,” he murmurs before he sucks her nipple.  
  
She feels the dildo press against her, and it’s not all unpleasant when it’s poking against _those_ lips. When he slowly begins to ease it inside her, she gasps, unable to believe she’s actually being fucked by a book. Literally. The idea nearly makes her come even before he begins to move it in and out at an increasing speed. He flicks his tongue against her nipple as she rocks her hips back and forth.  
  
“Want you to come all over your precious book. Want to hear you cry out and scream and beg for me to fuck you,” he says, hot breath against her damp skin. She isn’t used to hearing things like this, especially not from Bill, and she tightens around the dildo as he keeps talking. “Knew you’d look like this. Knew you’d be so amazing when you finally let go and gave in. That’s it, Hermione. So fucking sexy.”  
  
She cries out as she comes, trembling as her orgasm hits so hard she has to close her eyes and ride it out. The dildo is pulled out of her and suddenly Bill’s slamming completely inside her. Her eyes flash open and she gasps as he stretches her far more than the book. His lips are all over her face and neck, licking and nipping and sucking as he relentlessly pounds into her. She hears him whisper something that releases the magic binding her before he lifts her arse and she raises her legs to wrap them around him.  
  
The shelf is behind her, shaking with each hard thrust, and she can hear books falling but can only think about how good he feels inside her and how aroused she is as he fucks her. She tangles her fingers in his hair and bites his shoulder as she rolls her hips to meet him, riding him just as hard as he’s fucking her. The teasing is over for now, leaving urgent need for satisfaction and each other.  
  
It doesn’t take long before his back arches and his hips jerk forward. He buries himself deep inside her as he comes, grunting as he spills but keeps moving. She scratches his back and pulls his hair, giving up any pretense of being gentle and demure. He knows better, knows how kinky she is and how depraved she wants to be, and he still wants her, so he obviously doesn’t care. When he moves them, she holds him tight, surprised when he sits her on the table, knocking over her research and books.  
  
Then he slides out of her, come dripping to the floor as she sits balanced on the edge of the wood, and she watches him kneel and move between her legs. “Oh god,” she whispers when she realizes his intent, shifting as she stares and spreads her legs wider.  
  
“Warned you,” he says, flashing a wicked smile before he drags his tongue over her cunt. He starts to lick her, lapping up his come and hers as he nuzzles her clit with his nose and makes slurping sounds that cause her toes to curl.  
  
She reaches down and grips his hair as she falls back against the table and rides his tongue. He presses two fingers into her once he’s licked up the come, and she squeezes her breast as she inhales the scent of books and Bill and sex. When she comes the second time, she whimpers and shudders, rocking against his hand until she finally pushes him away.  
  
He leans down and kisses her, curling his tongue around hers as she sucks his tongue, tasting them on him. He pulls back and caresses her face, tracing her lips with his thumb as he smiles. “What does the rule book say about having sex with a coworker on company property?”  
  
“It’s forbidden, of course, and can result in termination, depending on the offense,” she says, her voice rather breathless after all of that.  
  
“I guess that means we’ll have to be careful and not get caught in the future, huh?”  
  
Future. She blinks and then smiles, feeling suddenly very shy despite their kinky activities that concluded just a few moments ago. “Careful is good,” she tells him, “as is possibly using our own flats on occasion.”  
  
“Perhaps, on occasion. I do have quite a nice private library, after all. Would hate to see it just go to waste when it could be used for such enjoyable pursuits.”  
  
“A private library of your own? With bookshelves full of books or simply books stacked on the floor?”  
  
“Bookshelves,” he purrs against her lips. “A half dozen or more, _full_ of books I’ve collected over the years of travel and, well, quite a few in the past weeks, too. Ulterior motives, certainly, but one must be prepared for anything.”  
  
“Constant vigilance,” she says with a slight smirk, excited at the thought of his private library as well as continuing what she assumed was a one off.  
  
“If you start making me feel jealous of my library, I’ll be forced to make sure you know what exactly books can’t do for you that I can,” he warns her, brushing his fingers through her hair.  
  
“There’s no need to be jealous, Weasley,” she tells him, smiling as she reaches up to pull him down for a kiss. “I hate to admit to being wrong, but I daresay that your attempt at seduction was a success.”  
  
He smirks in between nibbles on her lips. “You think? Whatever gave you that idea, Granger? And you‘d better get used to being wrong, since I‘m always right.”  
  
“Hmph. One benefit to books is that they aren’t cheeky smart arses who talk back,” she muses, looking to the side at one of the thick tomes on the table. “See? It just sits there quietly waiting for me to touch it.”  
  
“Fine. I’m not _always_ right,” he admits in a sulky tone that makes her smile as she rolls her head back to look up at him. He kisses her thoroughly before he smiles smugly. “Just most of the time.”  
  
Before she can mutter at him, he kisses her again, slow and teasing as he crawls onto the wobbly wooden table with her. When it doesn't collapse under their weight, she relaxes into the kiss. She decides to let him believe he has control for now. After all, she still owes him for binding her and can think of several things she’s read in the past that will make him scream for her. She waits until he pulls back and says, “We’ll see about that,” before she kisses him again.  
  
End


End file.
